Word Written, Letters Unread
by be93
Summary: Thousands of miles apart, they sit, in front of them the words they’ve written, the words they had wanted to write for so long. But these letters wouldn’t be sent, they would be left unread. A joint fic with Abboz. I do Robin's letters and Abboz Marian's.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea came to me a while ago and when I suggested it to Abi we developed it together and decided to write this shared fic. A series of letters written by Robin and Marian during the crusade but never sent, each chapter is a letter sent by one of them (odd chapters are Robin's and even Marian's) put into a bit of context. Set before Series One, it follows the fours years that Robin is in the Holy Land.**

Chapter One

Robin let the chainmail fall to the floor. Setting his sword down on the make-shift desk he sat down and let out a sigh. He pulled a piece of blank parchment towards him, he wasn't going to write an order down as he normally would, nor was he going to write brief note to the King or a soldier. On this piece of parchment he would write the letter he should have written when he arrived here. A letter back home, a letter for England; for Nottinghamshire. A letter for Marian.

But his mind was as blank as the piece of parchment; as blank as it was when he had arrived. As blank as it always was when he sat down to write this letter. In Marian he could confide his darkest secrets, tell his greatest news but he could not put it in writing; could not put it down on paper. And it wasn't that he was just uncomfortable – he could not crack a joke to alleviate tension here, he could not kiss her in the middle of a tale to relieve her worries – it was that he couldn't bring himself to tell her the horrors that he faced here. He could not honestly tell her what things he saw daily.

He shook his head, he was wrong. He could write to her; he could pour out his emotions and thoughts onto this piece of parchment. He grabbed the pot of ink and dipped the quill into it and began to write what he truly felt.

_To my dearest Marian,_

_These 'Holy Crusades' are far from holy. We fight in the name of God yet what we do is in no way Christian. Today I watched two men die for the 'greater good' yet I cannot find any good in this mess. King Richard says that with each day we are one step closer to accomplishing God's work, yet with each day more men die. I do not see the justice in this._

_I miss you. I miss you're hair; your chestnut curls and your sky blue eyes. Your perfect smile and gorgeous lips and your pale, soft skin, the way your cheek feels underneath my palm and your warm presence. I long to have you back in my arms, to hear your voice, just to see you. Love hurts but it is a pain I will endure for you; for us. When this is over I will come back to England; back to us and we will live out our lives together, I Promise._

_Sometimes I think of leaving, running and getting on the next ship back to England; but being a coward is a bad thing to be and the other option is feigning illness and I think that scampering off home when others risk their lives out here is a cruel and bad thing to do. So I will stay here, though it pains me to do so, I am doing what my King and country asks of me; that means I am doing what it is right, no?_

_I dreamt of you last night and it was a horrible thing to do to wake up and see the roof of my tent; of my home out here, and know that you were thousands of miles away, out of reach, out of my grasp. I thought of your last birthday, when we danced and I remember looking into your eyes and hoping we could stay that way forever, twirling infinitely, gazing into the deeps of each other's eyes; each other's souls. I don't remember the noise, the people talking, whispering behind their hands, covering their voices, I don't recall the tittle-tattle and the laughter and the pointing, and I just remember me and you. Together._

_I remember your tears though, they way they made tracks down your cheeks, and I remember thinking that I had never seen anyone cry so perfectly, impeccably and flawlessly. But then that is you; flawless in my eyes._

_I did not rub them away, try to make them disappear; there is no point in hiding the truth; pretending what happened did not. _

_I cannot change what I have done, the past is irreversible however much we will it, but I can make a better future, a brighter one. That's what I'm doing here; now. You understand that don't you?_

_Because if you do not understand then I see no point in what I'm doing, no reason for my being here. I am doing this for you; for us. I am doing this for my country my King but I am doing it for you too, because you cannot fight yourself, you can't fight out here so am doing it for you. _

_I love you. _

_You are always in my thoughts and often in my dreams,_

_Robin_

He stared at the parchment for a moment, he did not need to reread what he had written, he was not going to cross out a line, he was not going to cover the truth. He had written his true feelings. Written what had been on his mind, and, lord, it felt good to have it out in the open, to have these thoughts and feelings written somewhere rather than floating around in his head. Constantly on his mind.

"Master?" Much's head popped through the tent's opening and Robin turned around in his chair to face his companion, the letter on his desk. "Any post you want sent?"

Robin paused "No" he shook his head and turned back round, placing his hand over the parchment.

Much waited for a moment, checking that his master was sure and then stepped outside to collect other soldiers post and letters.

Robin carefully picked up the parchment and folded it into two, and then halved it again and again until it was a small square then he delved into his breeches pocket and withdrew a needle. He found a small length of string and then pulled off his tunic. His placed it on the ground near his chainmail and threaded the needle. Bending over he picked up his discarded tunic and then the parchment square. And then he started to sew, once finished he smiled a small grin and lifted up his tunic to see his handiwork, an inch from the bottom was the square of parchment neatly sewed and hidden from view. The first square in a line that would continue for years.

He pulled the tunic over his head and slotted his arms through the appropriate holes; he felt at the edge of the tunic for the small square and smiled when he felt it.

He had written the words he had wanted to write for so long. But he would not send this letter.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Marian sat herself down at the desk, she wanted to write to him, of course she did; she loved him, but it was only now, six months after he'd left, that her anger had subsided enough for her to even think about writing to him. The trouble was she didn't know what to write, for all the things they used to talk about, the hours they'd spend just talking, for all the secrets she'd told him over the years, now, even after six months apart, she didn't know what to say.

She opened the small chest on her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, then pulled out a quill and ink pot from another box. Laying the parchment out in front of her she sat staring at it, smoothing it out over and over again, still wondering what to write, what could she tell him?

At that moment she decided to stop thinking it through, what did it matter what she wrote, it didn't really matter as long as she meant it, as long she wrote what she truly felt. Him leaving didn't change anything, she still loved him, and she was certain he still loved her, this just made it a little harder, made them endure the pain necessary, after all love hurts, clearly it does at times, but it would be worth it in the end; he would come back, he'd promised he would, and when he did, they would be married and they would have a family together, and they would live out their days together.

Marian picked up the quill, and dipped it in the ink; she could write to him, she would tell him how she felt, tell him everything she wanted to, just like she used to.

_My Darling Robin,_

_I know it has been six months, but in truth I have been preoccupied. I admit I have been angry with you; as you can expect I was upset that you left, I wanted you to stay here with me, but after spending so much time thinking it over, I have come to see your side to it._

_I now think I understand why you had to go, I know you wanted to show everyone, including me, that you are worthy of your title and estate, and I am sure you wanted to prove you are worthy of me too. But what I don't think you understand is that you are. No matter how many times I say you are worth it, you continue to put yourself down, saying you are not good enough. You love me, and that's all I care about, nothing else matters to me, the titles, land, and this glory you seek does not mean anything to me; it's you I care for, your personality, your good heart, everything that would remain even if you were an outlaw, with nothing to your name. Yet still I continue to wonder, why don't you see that?_

_I miss you so much, every day that passes I miss you more. I miss the days we used to spend together, with only each other for company, the times we used to talk for hours, or just stay in each others arms, so we could feel safe, because we were together. I miss all the ways you smile; that cheeky grin that would creep over your face, to that special smile you said you saved only for me. I miss your gorgeous green eyes, and the way they sparkle in the light when you smile. I miss your hair too, especially how it would be messy, covered in mud, yet if anything it succeeded in making you more handsome. I could go on, yet I know it would result in a list of every one of your features, and the reasons I miss them. But of all the millions of things I miss, the one I miss the most is you as a whole. I just miss being with you, I miss the times spent to cherish all these things I miss. I miss having your arms around me, strong and loving, I miss the feeling of your lips against mine. I miss you, come home please._

_Yet when I say, 'come home' I wonder whether I mean it; I do want you home, but I know you are doing good there in The Holy Land, at least I hope you are doing good, because if you are not then what is the point of you being there? Sometimes I think about you out there, but then I think about how horrible it must be; with wars and death, and I don't like to think of you like that, I prefer to think of happier times, and I look forward to the day you come back. As, although I am sure you belong here, I know you are doing what our King and country asks of you, and I suppose that means you are doing what is right._

_In my dreams, it is as if you are still here, my dreams are very much the same; of you, dreaming largely of our future together, but when I wake, and realise you are thousands of miles away it hurts, because I long for those things of which I dream; to be with you, to be together again._

_Sometimes I think about the day you told me you were leaving, I remember the tears I cried, but also the hurt in your eyes that made me want to smother you with kisses and wrap you in my arms and keep you there forever. I remember thinking how no one could be so upset, yet look as beautiful as you did at that moment. But then, as I remember that day, it makes me cry, because I remember hurting you, and although you upset me, although you hurt me, I know I shouldn't have said those things I did, I shouldn't have yelled at you, but instead I should have held you close, and made the most of the time we had left, before you had to leave._

_I should end on a happier subject, so I want to want to tell you I am proud of you. I am proud that you are fighting for your country, for your King, and I understand that you are fighting for me too. If I could, I would be there fighting with you, but I am told it is unsuitable for a lady to fight, especially in a war, and so I have to content myself at home here in Nottinghamshire. And thus, I think I need my own way to fight for England here, though I am yet to come up with a way to do so, so for now I shall content myself in knowing that you are fighting in part for me._

_I love you Robin, never forget that, and I am always with you, as you have my heart and have taken it with you all those miles away. But I know you need it more than I do, so keep it; it is yours. I think about you all the time, and dream about you every night._

_Forever yours,_

_Marian_

Marian folded the parchment in half, not giving the letter a second look; it didn't need changing, every word was true. She was glad to get those things off her mind, it felt good to have all those thoughts written down. It felt right to confess everything to him again, telling him everything she felt, everything she thought, it was just like he was there with her again, except not quite there, she couldn't touch him, kiss him, feel him hold her close, and she couldn't really talk to him either. But for now, it was enough.

She got up off the chair and took the letter off the desk. She headed over to her bed, letter in hand and sat crossed legged at the head of the bed. Digging her fingers into a crack in the wall she pulled off a loose panel, and put it down on the bed. Just inside the wall was a small but relatively deep alcove, it was empty, but not for long.

She folded the parchment again, sealed it with a kiss and placed it in the alcove. Pushing the panel back into place she closed the secret alcove. Marian pulled herself up off the bed and began to head downstairs. Closing her hand around the blue pendant round her neck, she thought about him and the day he'd given it to her, and as she thought about the letter she'd written, she smiled.

She had written the words she had wanted to write for so long. But she would not send this letter. It would never be read.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: My turn again! In case i havent mentioned this already Be is doing Robin chapters and Abboz the Marian ones. Hope you are enjoying this if you are reading anonymously, reviews would be welcomed! **

**Enjoy and please review!**

Chapter Three

7 months after Arrival

Robin ached all over; he collapsed onto his makeshift bed and winced as he felt his quiver dig into his back, twenty-odd arrows digging into his spine. Sighing he heaved himself up, and hurriedly pulled at the sword belt around his middle, as the strap fed through the buckle he threw it on the floor in haste, and grimaced as the sword made a large cloud of dusty sand. He shook off his quiver and, learning from his previous mistake, gently placed it on the floor.

He stared into space, gazing up at the tent's roof and wondered whether he would be doing the exact same thing just a few hours from now when he woke up from one of his nightmares. He pushed himself up off the floor and waited for a moment for his surroundings to stop spinning, and then he bent over and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to ensure that the sand did not fall into his eyes. Once he was sure he had got as many grains as he could out of his hair he ambled over to his 'desk' and sat down on the block of wood he called a chair.

He almost laughed at the fact that a year ago he would have been doing the same thing back home in Locksley. He would have sat down after dinner – rather than fighting – and would have dragged the village records across his desk. He would have sat, working through his villager's wages and the profits and taxes. As if he was there Robin held up an imaginary goblet to his lips and could almost taste the deep red wine he would have drunk. A year ago he would have pushed back his chair, swung his legs up and rested his booted feet onto his desk and rested his eyes, and perhaps a certain young lady would have come to visit him.

A sharp gust of wind flew through and suddenly Robin pulled open his eyes and looked at the sand beneath his feet, the tent pole before him, the cotton material waving in the breeze and reminded himself where he was. He swung down his legs, he rubbed his head and steadied himself from fear of falling off the 'chair', and he sighed letting go of his memory. And he stared at the piece of parchment he had pulled in front of him, imagining it had been Locksley's records and dipped his quill in the ink, and instead of writing a list of numbers wrote a letter…

_Marian, _

_If there ever was a time when I needed you most it you it is now. I need you to be here and tell me it will be alright, I need to you to be by my side and promise me, a thousand times over, that this war will end soon and we can live together as man and wife. I need you. But then I don't want you to be here, I want to keep you as far away as possible, I need to keep you at home, in England, because no matter how much I want you here, I could not let you witness these atrocities daily. I couldn't hurt you like that. I wouldn't hurt you like that. I hope you understand._

_I hope you understand why I'm here, I hope you did not mean the insults you hurled at me when I told you I was leaving, I know that you were upset, angry even, and although it sounds awful, I think that when you are fired up and red hot and feisty I find you at your most gorgeous. That's terrible isn't it? And now I blush thinking of you! But I know, deep down, I do, that you didn't mean those harsh words you spoke, you didn't mean to say those things you did. I truly hope you do not lay awake at night and think of all the wrong things you think you've done, all the things you could have done better. I hope you do not waste a moment thinking of yourself as guilty._

_Today I held a young man while he drew his final breath. I watched as his eyes glazed over and I felt his head drop and his limbs grow lifeless. But this was not the first man I have held as he died, this was not the first man whose eyes I have watched close as he left this God-forsaken world. With each day hundreds of men are dying, and not just on our 'side', not just Christians but Muslims too. Hundreds of fathers, husbands and sons. People who have meaning and importance in people's lives. And this is why I have to fight here, for though I risk death itself it is a risk I will take gladly for you. My parents are dead, and I am a son to no one, I have not married you and we have not had the children we dreamt of, and I have to prove to you, to your father, to Nottinghamshire, and myself that I am worthy of your love. That I am the man who will make you a wife and a mother._

_If I die out here, then no parents will weep, no wife will cry, no children will worry, but I will have lost you and the chance to spend my life with you, I am not fighting to keep what I already have, I am fighting for what I could have. And I think that that is a greater fight, and perhaps takes greater strength to fight for something that you do not yet have, something that is a dream and a vision but you haven't yet secured. There is nothing more in this world that I want than to be your husband._

_I want to wake up every morning next to you, and fall asleep each night with you in my arms, I want us to throw open the shutters and look down on our village of Locksley and know that _together_ we are going to make _our_ village strong. I want to live out my days with you constantly by my side. And all this I want because I know that you want it to._

_I want to hold your hand and stand and face the world together._

_Your Robin._

Robin placed the quill down by the side of the letter and watched as a tear splashed against the parchment smudging his name, he quickly rubbed at his cheeks and eyes, unaware that he had been crying. He may be able to pour out his soul into these letters but to show too much emotion and feeling in front of soldiers and comrades was something that was not accepted. And how was a group of young men supposed to follow a man who could break down at any moment. It was best this way to keep emotions away from the battle field.

But living like a robot, like a lifeless person, who felt nothing but saw everything was something that each soldier had to do. And Robin wondered if perhaps so many eager men would have signed up to these 'Holy' Crusades if they had known what they would have had to do out here.

He shook his head as if this thought could simply float away and looked back down to his letter, the letter for her. And once again he felt for a needle in his breeches pocket and a length of string and in a few moments this letter would join the ring of square pieces of parchment that edged his tunic.

So when Much came round to collect post from the soldiers, Robin's letter was not placed on top of the pile, Much did not carry it along the paths of sand and dust, he did not enter the tent where letters were stored and sent from with Robin's letter in his hand. The letter for Marian would not join the large mass of parchment that a day later would be heaved onto the boat for England. The letter for Marian was exactly where it had begun; with Robin.

He had written the words he had needed to write. But this letter would not leave Acre for 4 years.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Marian stormed up the stairs into her room, slamming the door behind her she pushed the wooden beam down; barring the door shut.

"Marian! He's been gone a year!"

"I don't want to hear it, leave me alone!" She snapped back, infuriated at her Father.

"He might never come back, why wait?"

"Don't you dare say that! He is coming back and I will wait as long as it takes!" She was utterly disgusted at Edward's arguments against her. "Now go away."

Marian walked away from the door. Blocking out the sound of her Father's voice she sat herself down at her desk, staring out the window for a moment or two, calming herself down. Her mind was racing but there were so many things she didn't want to think about; Vaysey and Guy taking over, the treason in her own county and her Father's ridiculous proposal, for a start.

Her eyes dropped to the surface of her desk, in particular the piece of parchment lying on top. A moment later she knew what she had to do; write a letter to him, Robin needed to know what was happening in England, how the fight against evil was at home in England, he needed to know about Vaysey and Guy and her Father's ridiculous suggestion. Picking up her quill she dipped it in the pot of ink and began writing the letter.

_Dearest Robin,_

_I write to you of a matter of great urgency, I need you home as soon as possible, but it's not just me, Nottinghamshire needs you back too. My Father has lost the shire to an evil man by the name of Vaysey; he and his lieutenant Guy of Gisbourne are set to cause disaster throughout the shire. Villagers are already suffering with but a month of their rule; taxes are too high and laws have been changed leaving so many men in the dungeons or missing limbs. This overtaxing in the name of King Richard is crippling the shire even as I write and it is only set to get worse with little that can be done._

_As if that was not bad enough it seems Guy has his eyes set on me, I see him looking at me when he thinks I am otherwise distracted. He does not seem to understand that I am not interested, even when I tell him so; tell him my heart is already set on you, that I am betrothed to you and waiting for your return, he laughs telling me in time I will see his way. To make it worse, it seems even my Father is against me, against us; not even five minutes ago he was telling me to let you go, that you'd been gone a year and might never come back. That in itself hurts, but to have my own father suggest such a thing is something more. I rebuked him of course, as although I know it is a possibility I have faith in you, I know you will not break your promise to me. You will come home._

_I need you to come home, not only for Nottinghamshire but for me too; I think perhaps now I need you more than ever before. We need to prove that we are forever and I need you home so that we can be together again. If I could be there with you then I would, because then at least, even in war, we would be together. I know you are probably reading this thinking you would never have let me come, but I don't care; I would have made you let me, because if you must face the daily atrocities that are brought with war, then I should be there with you, we should face them together and make it easier on us both._

_Before we meet again you must know I didn't mean the harsh insults I hurled at you, I didn't mean the nasty things I said to you, every word was a lie, I promise you. Except not quite every word, I do love you, always have and although you did hurt me, although it hurt to watch you leave, I forgive you. I understand why you went, that you went to prove you're worthy of me, prove yourself to my Father, the other nobles, yourself and I know to me. But believe me when I say that is unnecessary; you love me and that makes you worthy of me no matter what anyone else thinks; you and I are the only one's that matter. _

_Soon we will be together again, and we shall be married; every night I will fall asleep in your arms and wake there the next morning, we will live out our days together and have the children we've dreamt of. But before we do we will have to face the world together; we must release Nottinghamshire from its evil hold and when it is safe once more then we can have the life together we deserve and so very much desire. _

_For now I will wait for your return, and in the mean time I will do what I can for the people of Nottinghamshire; a masked figure working in the night, and I will provide the villagers with as much medicine, food and money as I can. To confront the new sheriff would be the best course of action, but to do it alone would be foolish as would the two of us alone, however we must do something, whether that be warn the King or do what we can to help the suffering population ourselves. Whatever we decide I know one thing is true; you need to come home, we can make more of a difference together here in England than we ever could apart. Together we're stronger. _

_My heart misses you and so do I,_

_Your Marian x_

Marian folded the letter up, sealed it and letter in hand quickly headed across the room to her door. Hearing no shouting she breathed a sigh of relief; at least her Father had calmed down, that was something she guessed. She hastened to push the beam up out the way of the door, then a second later let it fall back down.

What was she thinking? She couldn't drag Robin home to this, bring him home to help her fight this evil. This was her chance to prove she wasn't a useless woman, that women could be as good as men and fight as well too. She knew she had found her way to fight for England at home and for now they would have to continue their fight for justice apart. She could not send this letter.

Walking back across the room to her bed she sat herself down on it, and pressing her lips to the letter for a moment hid it away with the other where it would never be read. Turning away from the panelling behind her bed she sat staring out the window, and as she gazed up at the brightest star she thought about Robin; how she missed him, and wondered if all those miles away he could be looking up at the same star.

For a brief moment she thought she felt his presence; instinctively she turned, wishing he was there but then reality sunk in. She shook her head clearing that thought; of course he wasn't there, and thought that perhaps for that brief moment they had been looking upon the same star, each thinking of the other.

And as it always seemed to, reality stood in their way. That letter would never leave the alcove, she would never send it and he would never read it.

**Abi's A/N: I know it took quite a long time to get done... really didn't know what to write. Timing is accurate enough I think and although I didn't rewatch any episodes to ensure I was right it should be fine... **

**hope you all like it, reviews are greatly appreciated xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I was quite stuck as to what to write for this and then sitting at my computer i heard a bird singing. Sounds poetic and slightly cliché but true. Anyway thankyou to that bird for his inspiration and here we are...**

* * *

Chapter 5

Robin was dreaming. He was standing outside Locksley Manor and he could see the village before him. Children ran around laughing, mothers and fathers watched their children proudly. The sky was a pure blue, without any clouds, the sun beat steadily down and every now and then a very light breeze would run through the village. The door to the manor opened and two boys charged out, each brandishing a wooden stick for a sword, following them three girls, all arms linked and running forward to collect the brightest flowers, and after them their mother. Marian. She was just as beautiful as she had always been, a few silver hairs shone in her chestnut curls, but her eyes were as blue and piercing as ever and her lips as full. She had more freckles on her face now from being in the sun with their children but she was beautiful.

She walked forward and wrapped her arm around Robin's waist, he lent down and kissed the top of her head and together they watched their five children run around with their village friends. The birds sang and the sun continued to beat down.

But now the scene in front of him changed, the children tackled each other and the sun became unceasingly hot. The bird's song became shrill and piercing and the happy scene that was before him turned horrible and corrupt. There hadn't been a defining moment or a specific trigger but the scene was now a nightmare rather than a dream. Robin felt as if his feet were stuck, his grasp tightened around Marian's waist, but feeling nothing he turned to see he was simply grasping the air. Panicked his head turned this way and that trying to locate his wife, trying to find his Marian. He couldn't see her anywhere.

Still the birds sang their songs barely audible now. Their high notes screeched across the village but no one else seemed to be affected by the animal's noise.

It was at this point Robin realised he was alone.

Robin's eyes sprung open, he looked up at the off-white canvas of his tent. He turned his head to his right and saw his right arm flung out, his hand clenched around the air, a tear slid down his cheek as he realised this is where Marian had been.

Still the bird sang but now it was a peaceful calm tune. Robin wrenched himself up so he sat on his mat and squinted slightly, there, sure enough was a small bird perched on his 'desk'. He smiled slightly, and very carefully stood up, shaking the sand off him, he slowly and silently walked over to the bird and – satisfied that the bird wouldn't move – sat down on his 'chair'. He was within reaching distance of the little animal now but not wanting to startle it he didn't dare try to pet it. Instead he took parchment and a quill from the other side of the desk and began to write under the watchful gaze of his new found friend.

_My Marian,_

_This morning I woke up to realise you were not by my side. It's a horrible feeling when you think something is there and it isn't. I had been dreaming, we were together in Locksley and we had five children – three girls and two boys. It was like something from a story, like the one we used to speak about, the one we made up with our hopes and aspirations for the future. I could taste it, I could feel it, it was so close but then it turned into my worst nightmare; you were gone and I couldn't do anything_

_I think, and worry, that this dream signified something, our home in ruins, our dreams in tatters. I fear something terrible is happening – or will happen – in Nottinghamshire, and I am not there to protect you. I promised I would protect you and I thought that coming here was doing that, perhaps I was wrong, but I cannot be everywhere at once. I feel useless. I feel as if I have failed you and my country. I am here for my country but I do not fight with the pleasure I imagined, I do not smile when we regain a scrap of land or capture an innocent Muslim. King Richard urges us forward yet I have neither the will power nor the motivation to do so. I don't want to fight anymore; I no longer wish to be a soldier. I want to be home and if my dream was true then I have even more of a reason to be there._

_I won't fight in the holy land but at home. Then I can be with you and we can strive to have our desired life. I can fight whatever this evil is in my nightmare instead of on sand over here. When it's all over, once it is defeated we will have our dream life, we will have Locksley and our five children, I can once again hold you in my arms and know that I have all that I've ever wanted from life; to be happy with you._

_Still there is something else. You left me in my nightmare and though I felt helpless and alone, it was if you hadn't gone completely. I fear for you. I think there is an evil taking hold of Nottinghamshire and you will be caught up in it. This sounds silly doesn't it? It sounds like children's tales, like the times when we would tell scary stories by candlelight. Marian, this is more than that, I could not bear you being hurt and I therefore need to ask you to stay out of trouble's way. I love you and your feistiness but the thought of waking up everyday like I did today is unbearable. The knowledge that you're there, that I could hold you but you're beyond my reach is excruciating, words cannot justly describe it. _

_I know your passion and your need to serve our people but I worry that this passion might cloud your judgment. Please do not put yourself in harm's way or at risk. _

_I _will_ come home to you and when I do we _will_ have our dream life, I won't let anything stand in our way._

_Your Robin x_

Robin folded the letter up neatly but he knew where it would end up. He couldn't go home, as much as he hated it here the King called for strong, reliable men and his presence now may be of influence later. He couldn't send this letter to give Marian false hope of his return. As much as she may need him it was just a dream; he shook his head, he was right, he sounded like a child.

He remembered when as a little boy his mother would calm him when he woke up screaming. She would wrap her arms around him and stroke his hair and sing him to sleep, she would tell him that it would all be alright in the morning. It would be wouldn't it? Edward was a strong sheriff – Robin knew that – he was just and full of morals. The people trusted him and they were happy under his rule, this nightmare he had must be far from the truth. Marian would be fine.

He once again pulled out his needle and thread and sewed his letter to the ever growing ring in his tunic. Sitting up straight he looked at the bird that remained in his desk. The animal's jet black eyes met with his own green ones, there was something there. Robin shook his head; it was a bird for goodness sake, perhaps an unusually tame one, but still just a bird.

Robin held out his hand and stroked the bird's feathers, he smiled but his smile turned into a frown as the bird flapped its wings and took flight. It flew out of the tent and Robin watched it go.

His smile came back as he remembered one of the bible stories his mother had once read him of Noah and his Ark and the dove which symbolised hope. Perhaps this was his dove.

He had written the words but his letter would not travel half way across the world. Perhaps hope would reach her first.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Marian sat on the hill overlooking Locksley, the sun beating down on her and a light breeze running through her hair. She sat all alone on the top of the hill watching the villagers below her go about their daily lives. Even in hard times they were happy; couples hugging and greeting each other with a kiss, children running around and laughing as they helped their parents gather food.

But there she was alone. Robin was thousands of miles away and so she had no husband to hold her in his arms or take away this feeling of loneliness. He wasn't there to give her a greeting kiss and wipe away the tears left by his absence and she hated the emptiness left where her heart should be.

She rose to her feet and began to walk away from the village, heading across the fields she'd sat with her back to. As she walked her eyes were drawn to some movement on the horizon. A figure. Someone was walking towards her across the fields. She brought her hand up to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun as she struggled to make them out. Gradually, as they grew closer, the figure became clearer to her. Male, light brown hair, his clothes looking a little worn, a bow and quiver in his hand. She couldn't quite make out his face at first but she didn't need to be able to, she knew exactly who it was. Robin.

Her heart lifted, the loneliness disappeared and her pace quickened. The two of them reluctantly tore their gaze from each other, both watching the bird that had flown up from behind him. It fluttered past Marian and perched on a tree, its pretty song filling the air and its jet black eyes watching them progress ever closer to each other. Her gaze returned to Robin's, his stunning green eyes looking right back into her blue ones, grins on both their faces.

But then he slows, a pained expression forming on his face, his hand moving to his side and his gaze dropping to the floor. His eyes moved quickly back up to hers, need and fear displayed in their depths. Marian's pace quickened once more and yet again as he collapsed to his knees. Now at a run her voice echoed out to him, his name on her lips but not a loving whisper in his ear as she so wished it could have been.

She pushed herself on towards him, her gaze never leaving his in a poor attempt at reassurance. She dropped to her knees in front of him, hesitating for a moment; if she touched him would it hurt him more? How had he been hurt? What could she do to help him? She knew all she could do was love him and hope that was enough to get him though this.

"I love you. You'll be alright." She kept her eyes on his and tentatively reached out to cup his cheek.

But he faded away, as if only an illusion. Her fingers closed on empty air. The bird that had seemingly brought her hope and happiness screeched in its tree; a cackling, mocking laughter that filled the air as it took wing and disappeared from sight.

Marian was left alone once more, with no Robin to comfort her as she cried.

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Marian woke with a start, her cheeks damp with tears. Her palm rested on the edge of her pillow, fingers curled round the edge; this, she realised, was where her Robin should have been.

She wrenched herself from the bed and wiped the tears from her face. Her emotions had been bottled up too long; it had been months since she let her true emotions show, but even then only in a letter. She could only ever be herself with Robin and given his absence still remained there was only one thing she could do; write a letter. She had to write to him about her feelings, confide in him again, even though she knew he would never read her letter.

My Robin,

I woke from the most awful dream this morning. I could see you coming home to me, walking across the fields and you were happy to see me as was I to see you. But this happiness did not last; as we drew near you collapsed in pain, I went to help you but just as I sought to touch you, you vanished. I fear this is some kind of prediction; I worry that you will be hurt, wounded in battle, perhaps even fatally. And although I don't want to, I find myself thinking there is a possibility that you will not come home to me. Although I continue to pray for your safety, I worry there is nothing I can do; if you are injured I cannot be there to tend your wound, reassure you and give you hope. Be careful, please, I beg you, just be careful. Please come home safely. I'm scared.

The battle still rages here too. The situation has only gotten worse, the new Sheriff is still raising taxes and it angers me that he is making the villagers suffer only for his own gain. There is a famine in Nottinghamshire now, it has officially been announced and this only makes the Sheriff's taxing worse and so in turn only angers me more. If you knew the risks I take every day you would perhaps be angry at me, you always used to tell me you loved my feistiness but warned that my passion can cloud my judgement, I know it is doing so now. Yet that matters little to me, the villagers need their nobles help and it seems I am the only one who is willing to provide that help, so I must do all I can for them and perhaps one day soon you can help them too. But as I warned you to be careful, I will take my own advice, perhaps only for you because I know that you would not want me to put myself at risk, and I suppose it is a fair deal that I'll be careful if you are.

Guy of Gisbourne is still sniffing around me like a spaniel, I find myself avoiding him more and more often. At times I wonder if he listens at all to what I tell him, he does not understand that I do not want to be his wife and never will. As he talks to me I remind myself you will be home soon enough, and I quickly excuse myself so I can be alone with my thoughts of you. He thinks I smile because I enjoy his presence, I wonder how he would react if he knew that I don't and would rather be in the Holy Land with you than at home in England with him.

I cannot believe it's only been a year and a half since you left. It seems like an eternity, I feel as if I have lived a whole life without you; the changes in circumstance are so huge. It is my thoughts of you, however, that are getting me through this time apart, whenever I feel down or lonely I remember the times we spent together; your stunning green eyes, the warmth of your embrace and the feel of your lips against mine. Until your return I will content myself with my memories of you, because along with the knowledge that you will return, for now it is enough.

Keep safe my darling and come home to me soon,

Your Marian x

Marian folded the letter up neatly, but she knew where it would end up. As with the others it would be hidden away, it would remain in England because there was no way she could ever send it. If he knew the circumstances and how she put herself at risk he would be home at the first opportunity. For now they had to be apart; England may need both of them but for now Robin was needed in the Holy Land, she just hoped he was making a difference.

She knew that in time he would return home, safe and well. She would run into his arms, and refuse to leave them, they would be together again right where they belonged. She could almost hear their voices; each telling the other how they'd missed them, terms of endearment and whispers of 'I love you'.

She looked out her window at the night sky, imagining the night after his return, how they'd talk all night, feeling safe in each others arms. She imagined the jokes he'd make but also how he'd pour his heart out to her so she could lift his burdens. The kisses to lift the atmosphere and gazing into the depths of his soul without needing to say a word. These were the things that kept her strong. She knew soon they would have their dream life. He would return home to her soon.

Marian pulled the covers over herself and imagined she wasn't alone, she imagined she'd rested her head on his chest, remembered the feel of his strong arms around her and pretended he'd kissed her goodnight. And with him in her thoughts she drifted off to sleep once more.

She had written the words she needed to, but she would never send her letter, it wouldn't travel thousands of miles to Acre and would be left unread. She hoped he knew her faith in him remained.

**Abi's A/N: Most inspiration came from Beth's last chapter, simply because I was making them relate... hope you liked the chapter. **

**R&R**

**Abi xx**


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